


Of Wants and Needs

by delicate_mageflower



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: D/s elements, Dirty Talk, F/M, First Time Together, Mild romantic tension, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Relationship, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 08:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicate_mageflower/pseuds/delicate_mageflower
Summary: Astrid Trevelyan needs to relax, and the Iron Bull has taken the hints that maybe he can be the one to help with that.





	Of Wants and Needs

“Won’t you please stay?” she whimpers, eyes wide and desperate.

Astrid Trevelyan, the Inquisitor, the one they call the Herald of Andraste, _begging._ For him.

She does not flinch when Bull pulls on her arms and pins her wrists above her head against the wall. He warned her she may not realize what she’s truly asking for in her asking for him, but he intends to be gentle with her this time.

As gentle as he can be, anyway. There is only so much he can do in regards to his size, but that is all the more reason to take it slow and easy, at least at first.

And there are ground rules which accompany how he prefers to play, necessary conversations they neglected to have. He’d half expected her to turn him away, and the moment caught them both all too quickly when she didn’t.

He looks down at her, enthralled by the sight. Her chest is heaving and she cannot take her eyes off of him.

He tries not to stare at her scars, and she tries not to stare at his. There is something delicate about this moment, and it somehow does not quite seem out of place.

But this isn’t about feelings, not right now. This is about desire, want, _need._

She needs the break, after all, and fuck knows he’s spent enough time between the serving girls with his own hand picturing being the one to give it to her.

He lets go of her wrists and lifts her straight up by her waist, effortlessly carrying her to the bed and slamming her down onto it.

His weight on top of her is almost intimidating, it is so all consuming. He is so much taller, so much broader, it would take more work for him _not_ to overpower her in this situation.

“You alright?” he checks in before making another move. He is already so fucking hard, but that’s okay. This may be the light version, but he needs to be sure all the same.

“Fuck, _please,”_ she answers. She appreciates his asking, truly, but she doesn’t want to wait another second. She understands this dynamic well enough, however, to know that she does not get to make demands. And she trusts him enough to allow it.

Outside this room, she’s the boss. Bull himself calls her that more often than anyone. That isn’t the only reason she’s more than happy to let Bull take charge here, but Maker knows it’s a damn nice change of pace.

“Say that again,” he instructs and shifts to slip one hand between her legs.

“Please,” she repeats, lower and huskier, her hips jerking just slightly upwards at his touch.

He moves just enough to have the space to work off her trousers and smallclothes, still looming over her and watching her breathing change in response to him, in anticipation.

He maintains eye contact when he stands to remove his own, wanting to see the look on her face.

It is, after all, always a joy to see an outsider react to their first qunari cock.

And she does not disappoint. He watches how her eyes light up, watches her body visibly tensing and her mouth falling open just slightly.

“So…you _sure_ you’re sure?”

He laughs with the question, as he already has his answer without needing to ask it. He is a master at reading body language, at picking up on every little detail to catch what another is saying without their ever having to speak a single word.

He is serious all the same, though. Even ignoring his new Tal-Vashoth status, this is not a mission for the Ben-Hassrath. She is not a mark or up for interrogation. She is a person he cares for, who has her trust not because he’s tricked her but because he’s earned it, and this _matters._ Verbal confirmation is important here. It’s irrelevant that he knows he’s right, he needs her to _say it._

“Yes,” she breathes out, a plea all its own.

He surges back towards her, his lips pressed against hers, and she shivers when he bites down.

He unbuttons her tunic, opens it up and takes one nipple between his teeth and then the other.

The sound of her panting, of her body calling to him, that is…

Fuck, this is gonna be good.

She gasps and arches her back when he runs his fingers over her clit. He presses down, rubbing gently, and he is _throbbing_ seeing her squirm the way she does.

He isn’t sure he’s ever felt like _this,_ how entranced he is looking at her, how much that _does_ to him.

He leans forward and kisses her neck, feeling her shake beneath him. He bites down softly just above the joint of her shoulder, and he aches when she moans.

“That good?” he asks, again just making sure.

“Harder,” she tells him, comfortable enough to make such a request.

“Harder, _what?”_ They’re getting into a rhythm, figuring each other out so easily.

“Harder, _please.”_

He leans into her again, just below her ear this time, as she adds a quiet, “Ser.”

“Oh, you are _good,”_ he says, sinking his teeth in hard enough it’s likely to bruise. She shouts and grabs his shoulders, and he has to stop himself from risking breaking skin.

She may even want him to, but that kind of rough can wait for another day.

He brushes his hands through her hair, concentrating on his next move.

Careful, careful. Gentle.

She is enamored over the size of his hands, imagining them around her throat, holding her down, slapping her face, smacking her ass.

Her breath catches and he sees it, sees _her,_ all the fucked up things they both want from each other.

Andraste had better not be watching.

He kisses her mouth again, hungry and longing. He wants to see her writhe, hear her scream.

He slips a finger inside her and _fuck,_ she is so wet. He made sure to bring the high end lubricating oils he gets from a special apothecary in Val Royeaux, but she is giving him enough to get started. Still, he struggles to hold himself back, but he knows he can’t force this, that she needs to be ready for him.

“Oh Maker,” she sighs, so tight and tense in his right hand. He adds a second finger and she shouts, and twitches when they curl.

“Please,” she mutters under her breath. “Please, please, please, please, please…”

“Patience,” he says. “You’re doing so well.”

“I need, I… _oh,_ Bull, please, I…please, please, please, please, ah…”

“Not until you’re ready,” he tells her, adding another finger. He doubts he’ll be able to fit himself in all the way regardless, not the first time, but he takes extra care in any case.

“I…Bull, please,” she continues, her breathing heavy, her legs shaking. There is nothing else in this entire miserable fucking world that matters to her anymore. She is losing all coherence and if the sky tore all the way open and swallowed them whole right now, that’d be just fine.

“Come for me,” he demands, and she obliges. He feels her contract, feels her tremble, and he cannot fucking take anymore.

“I’m gonna start real slow, okay,” he says as he pulls away to pick up a vial of lubricant from his pockets beside the bed. “You tell me if it’s too much.”

“Please,” she whines again, seemingly incapable of anything else.

He grabs her by an ankle and spreads her wider and wider, coating himself in preparation while intently gauging her physical reaction. When he suspects he’s stretched her legs out as far as she can go, he grips himself with determination and eases his way in, just the tip.

And for her, that is enough.

She cries out at the contact, rendered blissfully helpless by her nerves firing, her mind shutting off and giving in. She offers herself to him completely, for both their sakes.

And this is the least the lingering physical discomfort of the anchor has bothered her since she’s had it.

“You good, Inquisitor?” It’s a little awkward to use her title here, he realizes, but he also realizes that aside from the casual “boss,” he’s never called her anything else.

“Astrid,” she forces herself to correct him. “Not…not Inquisitor. Not here, not…not…not with you.”

“You good, Astrid?” he amends, still again needing her to tell him out loud.

“Oh, fuck yes,” she sighs. “More, Bull. More, fuck, please.”

He paces himself, sliding in barely a centimeter further, and she closes her eyes and bites her lip, quietly cursing but ever inviting, continuing to repeat his name and beg for him.

In response, he adjusts to press his fingers on her pubic mound, exacerbating the sensation of his thumb returning to rubbing her clit.

“Look at me,” he commands, although it has never been so difficult to open her eyes.

He can barely keep his focused, too, so rapidly unravelling with her, so enthralled by the effect he has on her.

And she has the most surprising effect on him, as well. They’re likely going to need to talk about this at some point or another.

But for now, her eyes gravitate to how much of him is left that he yet hasn’t worked into her, how full she feels from what appears to be so little of what he brings to the table.

She has never experienced anything like _this,_ that’s for damn sure.

His eye, on the other hand, briefly takes in the dark circles around hers. He knows she hasn’t been sleeping much. He knows there’s been significant psychological damage done from what happened at Haven. She hasn’t told him, but she hasn’t had to.

Maybe he’ll try to talk to her, try to get her to talk about it. Later. Much later.

In the meantime, he focuses on the whites of her eyes taking over, the bounce of her breasts as he thrusts even as mildly as he is, the sweat on her skin, the red coloring spreading across her chest.

“Fuck,” he growls. “Fuck, Astrid, you look so beautiful when you come.”

He pushes himself in a little deeper, and adds in a low rumble, “Let me see it again.”

She closes her eyes and he wants to reprimand her for it but he lets it go. That’ll come later. He has no doubt their upcoming discussion of kink negotiation will do nothing to deter her.

But the way she howls for him, he doesn’t even care. She’s needed this as badly as he’d surmised. And he’s needed it almost as much.

“More,” she calls to him. “More, Bull, I…I can take it.”

He isn’t so certain about that, but he sure as fuck can’t bring himself to argue.

He picks up the vial he’d dropped on the bed, and she makes the hottest, most desperate sound when he takes his hand from her. He slathers himself in it, pours a bit directly into her, and he pushes in with heightened fervor.

She angles her hips just right to take away some of his control, to push him in deeper on her own, and she manages to take him all the way in.

“Oh, damn,” Bull can’t stop himself. She is _glowing,_ gorgeous, radiating. In this moment she is his, it is all for him, and his cock aches, buried inside her to the base because _she had to have him._

It is nearly enough to undo him entirely but he takes a deep breath, reeling himself in.

She, on the contrary, cannot stop shaking, cannot stop clenching, cannot stop whimpering. For as much work as he puts into maintaining his resolve, hers is long gone.

And it is a _sight._

He had fun with the serving girls, he truly did, but nothing—absolutely _nothing_ —could ever compare to this.

Oh, he is royally fucked now, he knows that. He will give her his full attention for as long as she wants him, and that is _all_ he wants.

“You like that, yeah?” he asks her in a rough and authoritative voice, just another small taste of what he plans to give her after the necessary conversations have been dealt with. “You can’t get enough of this, can you? You take it so well, I’d love to see you try it with your throat.”

She lifts her head and instinctively opens her mouth, fully expecting him to change position, but he only laughs.

“Another time,” he follows. “Right now, I have you _exactly_ how I want you.”

She lets her head fall back into the bed, continuing to do everything in her power to keep her eyes on him. And it looks incredible, the way he moves so cautiously while locking his eye on her and breathing almost as heavily as she. How hard he works to hold himself back, to maintain stamina, not to risk hurting her…it is strangely delicate, and surprisingly intimate.

Qunari don’t tie emotions into sex, she remembers him telling her that. But the “another time” was hopeful, so at least she knows this doesn’t have to be a one and done.

She cannot let this be a one and done.

“Tell me you need this,” he demands. “Tell me how this makes you feel.”

“Oh fuck,” she gasps. “Fuck, I…I need this, I need…I need your cock, I need your hands, I need your…oh, fuck, Bull, you feel so good. You feel so…fuck, I—oh Maker, I’m coming, I’m…oh, fuck…”

“Fuck,” he echoes, unsure how much he has left in him. She is so fucking sensitive, and she feels _incredible._ Amazing. Her whole body is vibrating and she clamps down around him harder and harder, rapidly tearing away at all of his will not to release, to stay inside her.

He presses a hand to her chest, scratches downward. Softly at first, barely a graze, testing the waters. She shouts affirmatives, and without thinking about it she moves her hands to pull at her own hair. She is so lost to sensation and pleasure, she is nearing the thrashing stage, overcome by this, by him. She is so overwhelmed parts of her body are beginning to numb, and she can no longer see straight no matter how much she tries to focus.

He removes his hand from her chest and takes both her wrists with it, slamming them down above her head and pinning her there.

“You look so good,” he tells her. “Shaking for me, pleading for me. You are mine for the taking. You are all mine.”

“Yours, fuck, yes…” She is hardly intelligible but by the Void, is she trying. For him. She is trying for him. “Filthy little whore, all spread out just for you. _Fuck,_ for…for you. Take me, ser, take it. Fuck me, hurt me, use me. I’m yours. It’s all yours.”

How she managed to say all _that_ is beyond her, is a fucking miracle if there ever was one, but it gets her the reaction she was craving. He leans in, struggles to reach her neck with his teeth without having to readjust either of his hands too noticeably. But he makes it, somehow he makes it, and all of Skyhold has to hear her when he bites down so, so much harder than before. He squeezes her wrists, too, enough they’ll surely be marked as well, laying the visible claim on her they both need him to leave.

“Oh fuck, I’m…fuck…” He almost misses his chance to give her even that little warning, pulling back and pulling out just in time. He doesn’t think before he comes over her chest, everything hitting him all at once.

He rolls over to lie next to her, taking in the thick scent of fresh sex, the way she moves in the aftershocks, how she still can’t catch her breath.

And this may not have been the full experience, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to stay long enough to provide any care she may need.

He doesn’t want to leave at all. He has to, though, once she’s good to go. Staying the night when it feels like _this_ makes it too real. Staying the night now is planting seeds he isn’t sure either of them are prepared to sow.

He looks over to catch her running a finger between her breasts and then placing it in her mouth, licking his come off while continuing to tremor all throughout her body, and that is an image which has certainly just been permanently engraved into his mind.

“Sorry, uh,” he laughs, “I should have asked…”

“No, no, it’s fine, you’re…you’re fine.”

She’s exhausted, she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready to fall asleep. She might even stay asleep through the whole night, too. She is so calm, so content.

Peaceful. This is what peace feels like.

He wanted to get her to relax, and he has more than accomplished this goal.

He doesn’t want to leave her, though. He really does not want to leave her.

“That was incredible,” she whispers. “Fuck, Bull, that was…you are incredible.”

“Good to know,” he says lightly. “You were pretty fucking fantastic, yourself.”

She hums in response, beyond all words.

“Can I help you get cleaned up?” he asks her, wanting to care for her as much trying to give himself a reason to stay a little longer.

“No,” she mumbles. “No clean. Fuck it. Sleep.”

“You sure, boss?”

“Mmf, sleep.”

She’s already fading, there isn’t anything left for him to do.

He manages to pull up her blanket and cover her, and he allows himself to stop and run his fingers through her hair. He goes just over the side she keeps shaved, and he once again tries not to look at the thick scars she has around her eyes on that same side of her face. They were there when he first met her, already healed, so he doubts they came with the Inquisition. He doesn’t want to think about how else she might have gotten them. He doesn’t want to think about her being hurt without him there to watch out for her. He doesn’t want to think about her being hurt at all.

“Goodnight, Inqui—Astrid.”

She wants to ask him to stay, but her voice won’t cooperate. She wishes he’d stay, but she’s not sure she could say it anyway.

On his way out the door, Leliana stops Bull to ask if “the Inquisitor” is awake, something about some sort of important business.

“No,” he tells her with a sly smile. “Let her rest.”

And behind that door, she has already fallen into the best and most restful sleep she has ever gotten in her life.

Alone, but resting well.

Alone, but they both know it won’t be that way for long.

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I would be writing Inquisition fic due to my very mixed opinions about this game, and yet…oops my hand slipped, and so now here we are.
> 
> This is so damn mild and honestly every time I see Bull smut tagged as "light BDSM" a piece of my soul dies, but I found myself thinking a lot about what that first ride would have been like since Bull neglected to set the ground rules for it and I cannot possibly imagine him as _that_ shitty Dom but it also obviously was never going to be exactly vanilla, so.…this happened. You're welcome, lol.


End file.
